A Many Splendored Thing
by Aislin30a
Summary: -OR- The BAMF Adventures of Kirk and Sulu. Shenanigans abound!
1. The Swings

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So my friend ReWhite and I are just tickled silly by the idea that Kirk and Sulu have this Epic Friendship where they can commiserate about their relationship problems and then push each other off of cliffs. Naturally this means we must right about this Epic Bromance. So we've come up with this series. Future installments will be loosely linked together but can be read individually (probably) without any confusion.

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Title: A Many-Splendored Thing

Authors: Aislin30a and ReWhite

Rating: This chapter T for language

Summery: The BAMF Adventures of Kirk and Sulu

Disclaimer: We own nothing and are just doing this for fun.

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**A Many-Splendored Thing**

**Or:**

**The BAMF Adventures of Kirk and Sulu**

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_The Swings_

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It's 0100, station time, and they've just been kicked out of the only bar in Bracken ST12.

"Why is it," Kirk says to no one in particular. "That out of _seventeen_ different mining stations-"

"Nineteen, Keptin." Chekov corrects.

"-that out of _nineteen_ different mining stations in the Brack-Oflee asteroid belt, we get sent to the one staffed mainly by Baptists?"

"My mom's side of the family is Baptist." Lieutenant Mathews says a bit dreamily, but mostly drunk.

"I'm not saying they aren't a nice group of people, Cupcake." Kirk says, reaching out to pat the Lieutenant's shoulder. He misses, which sends both himself and Sulu (who has the Captain's other arm draped across his shoulders) off balance and into a wall. They bump into Mathews on the rebound. The three men manage to stay up-right and continue down the corridor leaning against each other for support. Chekov follows a little off to the side. "I'm just sayin', they could do with some more booze is all."

"We could have had more if you hadn't hit on the bartender's husband." Sulu points out. He's not nearly so drunk as the other two but he's got that relaxed expression that means he's more than a little tipsy.

"I couldn't help it," the Captain whines. "I'm drunk. Is one of those thingies. You know? It just _happens_."

"Like when random objects get randomly beamed up random people's asses and Scotty is nowhere to be found?" Mathews asks.

"No, no, no. Is natural. You don't think about it. Body has a mind of its own." Kirk stumbles as he looks up at the ceiling trying to find the right word. The group comes to a halt just off an open plaza to accommodate their Captain's current inability to walk and think at the same time.

"A reflex?" Chekov prompts.

"Yeah, one of them." Kirk smiles and looks back down, into the plaza. "Hey! A playground!"

Chekov follows the Captain's gaze out into the dimly lit area. There is a playground of sorts, back towards one corner. It has a slide, a swing set and some monkey bars that look like they've been put together using spare bits and pieces from various station systems.

Mining stations weren't really designed with families in mind, the general assumption being that most of the workers would be single or newlyweds, looking to build up a credit cushion for the future; or professional miners who weren't interested in starting a family. And for the most part that's what miners tended to be. They just didn't always stay that way. From the looks of it, this community had expanded to include families with children and had considerable affection for their youngest residents. Despite the thrown together look the playground was well built and given pride-of-place on a raised foundation with real-

"Grass..." Mathews murmurs.

"Yeah." Kirk sighs.

"It's _beautiful_."

"Steady on there, Lieutenant Cupcake."

"When I was little," Sulu states firmly, with the air of someone imparting an important insight. "My sisters and I used to have contests on the swings to see who could come closest to spinning themselves right up over the bar. We never could manage it."

There's a pause while they all consider this.

"Betcha I could do that." Kirk says in that special tone of voice that means he and the pilot are about to do something monumentally stupid.

"Twenty credits says I do it first." Sulu replies then makes a mad dash towards the swings, Kirk hot on his heels. They hit them still running and there's a brief tangle of limbs and chains and cursing before they're properly seated. They push off and pump their legs, working themselves up to the point where their heads are nearly above the bar on the back-swing.

"Those twenty credits are as good as mine, Lieutenant Tiny!"

"Oh. You are going down, Captain Man-Whore!"

"Oh, God! They're going to DIE!"

"Why am I always being stuck drinking with the light-weights?" Chekov asks, feeling more than a little exasperated with the whole situation.

"He's gonna kill me..." Mathews whimpers, covering his eyes then peeking through his fingers. "The Captain'll break something and there'll be blood everywhere and McCoy's gonna have _fucking kittens_ and the rest of the guys won't have my back at all, cause we're all so fucking scared of him!"

"Чего вы сказали? " It doesn't really seem to matter that Chekov has switched to Russian in the face of that startling confession. Mathews doesn't seem to need Chekov to be an active participant in the conversation.

"You don't understand!" Mathews cries. "I'm Security! I'm supposed to keep that idiot safe! Only he's got the survival instincts of a gerbil and _I'm_ drunk and _he's _drunk and there isn't a phaser setting for shit like this!"

"It is a swing set, Lieutenant." Chekov deadpans, speaking loudly so he can be heard over the trash talk coming from the swings and Mathew's paranoia. "You have not seen them on shore leave? They jump off cliffs, and climb rock walls, and race down canyons on glorified hull paneling! They once tried to catch Uruvian spiny-jackals with their bare hands because they saw locals doing it. Never mind the locals have scales on their hands! They are stupid! They don't think about safety parameters, or how the numbers in your head say '_exceed this speed, over rotate this percent, angle too wide, this margin of error is difference between adrenaline high and signal termination_'. No! He is a pilot. He is inwincible! He is blind and not seeing how he breaks you!"

"Anyway," Chekov catches his breath, face hot, starring fixedly across the plaza to avoid Mathew's startled expression. "This is nothing. It is a swing set. How much damage can they do?"

Kirk has gotten to the point where the chains on his swing slacken slightly at the hight of his arch, causing it to jar when they extend fully again as the swing falls. He takes this as a personal affront and tries to pump his legs harder.

"What if they really do go over?" Mathews asks, his voice still a little high.

"They can't. There isn't enough centripetal force to keep the chains from going slack when they get too high." Chekov assures him. "The swing will just keep falling down. It is impossible for it to go over."

Sulu seems to have remembered that particular point as he's not pushing his own swing to that stage. He's stopped trading barbs with Kirk now that the Captain has become so frustrated with his own lack of progress. Instead Sulu's adjusting his grip on the chains, inching his hands up as he keeps his arch steady. He's watching the bar now and Chekov is wondering what he's up to when he acts. On his next swing back, Sulu pulls himself up with his hands, sets one foot onto the seat letting the other move with the motion of the forward swing. As he approaches the top of the next backward arch he pushes off with his foot, twists the other around the chain and reaches out with his hands. He grabs the bar, using his momentum to push his body forward, swinging his legs up and slightly apart as he balances himself in a handstand on top of the swing set, the swing dangling from one leg by its chain.

"Oh, you fucking cheater!" Kirk laughs as Sulu bends his leg out to kick the swing over the side. The pilot is grinning like a mad man as he lets himself fall back, letting go as he swings around the bar, out into a back flip. Chekov lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding when Sulu manges to land on his feet, taking a few flailing steps forward but not falling.

"That will be twenty credits thank you very-" Sulu gets out before one of the chains on Kirk's swing breaks with a deafening snap. Sending the Captain flying straight into Sulu and pushing them both off the playground's platform, tumbling across the floor.

"Holy shit, Ensign Jail-bait! Comm Sick-bay!"

Chekov groans.

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End


	2. Cultural Enchanges

Thanks so much to all you wonderful reviewers out there! ^___^ You make us happy.

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Part Two

Authors: Aislin30a and ReWhite

Rating: This story is rated T for language and stunts of the "Do Not Try This at Home" variety.

Summery: "You are James Tiberius Kirk and you do not believe in no-desk-sex scenarios!"

Disclaimer: We own nothing and are just doing this for fun.

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**A Many-Splendored Thing**

**Or:**

**The BAMF Adventures of Kirk and Sulu**

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_Cultural Exchanges_

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Hikaru Sulu is examining the flowered centerpieces of the feast table and pretending not to be utterly enthralled by the way Chekov is attempting to get the last bits of an Edii delicacy out of its conical container with his tongue. Sulu stares at one particular bloom, yellow with streaks of brilliant blue trailing in towards its pistils. Watches as a strange, six-winged insect buzzes around it for a moment then lands on the inner curve of one petal. He's vaguely disturbed by the fact that - when the flower snaps shut, trapping the insect and _swallows_ - he can't help but think of the way the Russian across from him is sucking down those confections and what else Sulu would like to see him swallow.

"Sulu! You should try these." Chekov chirps from the other side of the table. "They are so good. A little bitter but _wery creamy_ and-"

"Oh hey! Is that the Captain? I should really go talk to him about, um, getting one of these centerpieces for study and, and... yeah. Excuse me." Sulu stutters, jumps up and jogs toward the edge of the feasting area where Kirk is chatting with Commander Spock. He tries not to think about Chekov's startled expression.

"Chekov _really_ likes those little pastry things, doesn't he?" Kirk says with a smirk when Sulu comes to a stop beside him.

"Oh God, don't even start."

"As I was saying Captain-"

"Jim." Kirk interrupts, looking amused. "Parties don't count as on duty, Spock"

"Yes, Captain. This is, however, a celebration of a successful trade agreement. A ritual which the Edii hold in great esteem. In which we are the representatives for the United Federation of Planets. We are, therefor, operating in a official capacity. Proper etiquette and forms of address should be observed."

"Whatever floats your boat, _Commander_. Whoa!" Kirk does a double take at something off to the right, past Spock's shoulder. "Do you guys see what I see?"

Sulu and Spock turn to look out past the feast tables to a small hill lit by the glowing spheres the Edii use as lanterns. There's movement as some of the adolescents from the area climb up a structure built at the top, placing spheres on small recesses as they ascend, lighting it up for the feasters to see.

"If you are referring to the tower the younger Edii men built earlier this afternoon from tree cuttings, then yes. It is also in my field of vision."

"I wonder what they're up to?" Kirk asks.

They watch as some of the teenagers spread leafs and mulch out on the steep incline in front of the tower. Others from the gathering are starting to turn towards the hill to watch as well. When the group is done with their preparations they call something up to those at the top of the two story, wooden structure. One Edii at the top picks up what looks like a coiled vine from the platform and examines it closely. It seems to meet with his approval because he ties one end around a double jointed ankle, yells out an oscillating whooping sound then dives head first off the tower.

The gathered Edii let out a deafening cheer as the man's vine snaps tight about halfway down the incline, his head mere inches from the ground. The vine recoils, pulling the man up to land safely further up the hill. He jumps to his feet, raising his hands above his head to accept the crowd's cheers and whistles then detaches the vine from his leg. Allowing those on the platform to pull it up again.

"_Lieutenant_ Sulu?"

"Yes, _Captain_ Kirk?"

"Are _you_ thinking what _I'm_ thinking?"

"Yes, sir. I do believe I am."

"_Awesome_."

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"Two concussions and a sprained ankle! What the hell were you thinking?" McCoy yells as he stalks towards them baring a hypospray.

"It seemed like a good idea at the time. OW!" Kirk slaps a hand over his neck where Dr. McCoy has injected him with an anti-inflammatory. Sulu chuckles from the safety of his own Bio-bed then tries to scramble away when McCoy darts at him with remarkable speed. He's not fast enough.

"Ow... What did you do that for?" Sulu asks, rubbing his own neck. "I didn't sprain my ankle!"

"I suspect you have chronic swelling in your _brain_!" McCoy drawls sarcastically, glaring at him. "Probably around the frontal lobe which would explain your epic lapse in judgment."

Sulu hears the hiss of the main doors over Kirk's wheezing laughter.

"Hello Sulu! Ai, and Keptin and Dr. McCoy also." Chekov says, coming into Sick-bay. He looks a little guilty as he makes his way towards the Bio-beds. "We got one of the centerpieces from the Edii for you, Sulu. Only it tried to eat Lieutenant Mathews' fingers on the way back in the shuttle, so he chucked it out the airlock. But I have brought you pastries to make up for it because you did not get to try them! We can share, da?"

Kirk snickers.

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It's sunny and hot. The water, a funny blue-purple color because of the unique algae they've come to collect on their way to Pax ST3 , looks really good to Sulu right now. Except the only ways to get to the river from this side are through a swampy field of razor like grass even the locals steer clear of and a cliff too high for anyone but a professional diver to attempt. Maybe not even a professional.

"What do you think, Crikta-tak? One more sample of this patch here and then we can go inside, out of this heat." Sulu says, looking up from an open patch in the field. The K'tukiq scientist he's been gathering samples with glances over their box of jars and tubes and nods.

"I think so, Sulu-tak." Crikta replies with a smile. It's not a natural expression on a K'tukiq. Their residual beaks make it difficult to do and the jagged ridges which serve as teeth are a bit unnerving to look at. But they've learned a reasonable approximation of the expression to aid in communication with the many federation species who rely on facial cues to gage intent. And while Sulu appreciates that they made the effort, he still prefers the more natural ruffling of the colorful feather-down across Crikta's head and shoulders that signals the K'tukiq's affable mood.

"Excellent." Sulu sighs, twisting the cap on the last sample jar and placing it in the box. He stands and rolls his shoulders, then turns and makes his way carefully down the small path through the razor-grass. Crikta follows close behind him.

"There isn't much we can do with these until Tyt'k-tak returns with the replacement parts for the incubator." Crikta says, coming up to walk beside Sulu as they enter the grassy yard around the lab buildings. Crikta greets a passing K'tukiq researcher with a whistling trill (Sulu just waves) then turns back to face him. "We should go swimming instead of sitting around inside like grubs."

"That would be amazing but how would we get to the river?" Sulu holds the door open when they reach Lab 3 then follows Crikta inside. The environmentals are mediocre at best but even the moderate drop in temperature is welcome. Sulu furrows his brow in concentration as he pronounces the more tricky K'tukiq name. He still doesn't get it right. "Tytik-tak has the Skimmer. There's no way we can walk through that marsh without loosing a limb."

Crikta lets off a few bursts of shrill hooting. Sulu isn't sure if Crikta's laughing at the way Sulu butchered the other scientist's name or at his comment about the razor grass. "Not through the grass, Sulu-tak! Over the cliff. Some of the researchers from Lab 4 are going up there not long from now. We could join them."

"I don't know." Sulu helps Crikta unload their samples into the incubator, dormant at the moment. He wipes some sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "That shale is way too slick for me to climb down and I'd break a leg trying to jump off."

"Not climbing, Sulu-tak, or jumping either. Well, mostly not jumping." Crikta puts his long hands together, palms to the floor, and spreads his fingers out like wings. "We use... what's the Standard word? Shiii... they are like gliders. Only for falling, not for flying."

"Parachutes?" Sulu ventures.

"Ck! No, I have seen parachutes. These aren't the same." Crikta tips his head and whistles softly in thought. He clicks his tongue and shrugs when he can't think of the right word. "It doesn't matter what it's called in Standard. Tur!ka is our word. They slow your fall. You jump off holding them and let go, maybe 8 or 9 meters from the water. Then you can turn them over and use them as rafts! Our cliff is a good hight for beginners."

"Well..." Sulu says, looking around the room. It's clinical and lukewarm with nothing much to occupy his attention. There really isn't any question about his decision. He's got the itch now. An itch for cool water and the adrenaline high he only seems to be able to experience while doing something that should, under normal circumstances, get him killed. And it's been a while since he got to have any fun like that. Not since he raced Kirk through Engineering on hover-stretchers 'commandeered' from Sick-bay. Speaking of- "Why the hell not? Do you mind if I invite Kirk-tak'quek along too? I think he'd really enjoy the experience."

"Of course! He is welcome to come as well." Crikta says, his feather-down ruffling happily. He pauses a moment as they head towards the door and leans in close. "We are all pleased that you try to use our honorifics, Sulu. But perhaps you should address your Captain by his Standard title instead?"

"Oh, man." Sulu groans, smiling a little in embarrassment. "I really butchered that one, didn't I?"

"Yes. Tak'qk means 'soring high'. Tak'quek means 'shit flinger'."

"Oh, God. No wonder the project director was giving me weird looks."

Crikta hoots so loudly, dust falls from the ceiling.

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Kirk and Sulu are standing close to the cliff's edge, looking down at Crikta and a few of the other K'tukiq scientists in the water below. Sulu can feel his blood rushing and he can hear Kirk's fingers tapping rhythmically on the handles of his Tur!ka in excitement. The K'tukiq gliders are shaped a bit like half-cylinders with structural ribs and are incredibly light. After watching Crikta and the others demonstrate the proper technique Sulu can't wait to try it. But they've only got one shot at this, until Tyt'k gets back with the Skimmer. They have to make it count.

Crikta calls up at them and the scientists still up on the cliff twitter enthusiastically. Sulu looks over at Kirk. They exchange wide grins, Sulu nods and Kirk gives a count of three. They jump, holding the Tur!ka above their heads.

The water is rushing up to meet them. Not as fast as it would if they were falling freely but faster than Sulu expected from watching the K'tukiq who jumped before them. He has just enough time to think: _K'tukiq. A race of avian descent. Avian. Bird-like. Hollow bones. OH SHI-_ before they hit the water.

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"This was supposed to be a minor detour in our flight plan. A scientific pit stop. No crushing jaws, no phaser burns, no anthropomorphic scenery. You were collecting _algae_ for God's sake! So how is it that you are now in my Sick-bay, half-drowned with multiple fractures?" Dr. McCoy punctuates his last statement by popping Kirk's shoulder back into its socket. "Was the algae sentient? Did it have a symbiotic relationship with a two ton, aquatic grizzly bear? Was it wafting hallucinogenic fumes? Did you jump off a cliff thinking you could fly?"

"Well, we weren't hallucinating and flying wasn't really what we had in mind."

"You're _fucking kidding_ me, right?" McCoy looks up from the Osteo-regenerator he's programming to mend Kirk's broken ankle to stare at him incredulously.

"We were participating in a cultural exchange, Bones."

"In my experience, cultural exchanges don't involve broken bones or hysterical aliens molting all over my Sick-bay." McCoy growls out, walking over to run a tricorder over Sulu's broken leg.

"God. I feel really bad about that." Sulu says, feeling incredibly guilty about the state the K'tukig researcher was in before being led out into the hall by a soft spoken nurse. "Crikta's such a nice guy, he really shouldn't have had to deal with this shit."

This is about the time, Sulu suspects, that Dr. McCoy decides to set his broken tibia the old fashioned way.

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They stumble into Sick-bay, tripping over their own feet, leaning on each other for support and giggling. The dark skinned nurse at the Duty-desk - she's got pretty hair Hikaru thinks, curly and bouncy but with too much ebony and not enough caramel – stands up, one hand covering her smile as she looks them over.

"Shh, shushy, shh, shh." Jim says, one finger pressed to his lips. He continues in what he probably thinks is a whisper but which is actually a voice loud enough to carry quite well in the sparsely manned Sick-bay. Hikaru finds this incredibly funny. He buries his giggles in Jim's shoulder in his own attempt to remain stealthy. "We have to be quiet, Nurse Lady. Cause if Bones finds out what we did _this_ time he's going to go monkey poo all over the place. _Monkey. Poo_. So shhhhh..."

The Duty Nurse is biting her hand and shaking from the effort to keep her laughter from spilling over. There's a clatter in the distance, rather like a PADD being abandoned, and the scrape of a chair across sanitary floor tiles. The Duty Nurse rolls her eyes towards the CMO's office and dives into the nurse's crash room in the interest of self-preservation. Dr. McCoy comes storming out of his office not two seconds after.

"Oh. My. _God_!" He exclaims in utter disbelief, taking in their many bruises and ripped uniforms.

"Bonesy!" Jim yells happily. As though he hadn't been dead set on avoiding the CMO's attention just seconds ago. "We won, Bones! Me and Sulu! Those Garrisods thought they could totally whoop us with their flashy bouncy balls and their games with no rules, but we showed them! Me and Sulu, we're like ball stealing legends. We're, like, the most awesome thing since Chekov programmed the transporters not to beam small, suspiciously shaped objects around the ship. We're _hot_."

"What the hell is i_wrong_/i with you?" McCoy asks, grabbing them each by an ear and hauling them towards a pair of Bio-beds. "Are you trying to get yourselves killed?"

"No way! That wouldn't be cool. At all." Hikaru says, flopping down on one bed. "It's all about taking it to the edge, man. But you can't fall over. Cause then you'd never get back to the edge again. Ya know?"

McCoy looks up from his tricorder, shifting his eyes from Jim to Hikaru and back as though he's reprocessing the last couple minutes of conversation.

"Are you both high?" He asks.

"You know, I thought that whole wafting incense thing was kinda suspicious." Jim muses.

"Oh, for crying out loud."

"It's like an embrace, man. Like a lover." Hikaru says dreamily. He's on the cusp of a moment, now. Like real philosophical stuff. He can feel it. "Only you can't sink too far into it or she'll smoother you. But it's totally like that, you know. Like you're racing along, or falling, or whatever and you can hear your blood screaming in your ears. And you're almost there. You're almost sinking too far, you're almost falling over the edge. And then you come back out of it and you're all like... whoa, and it's like... like..."

"Orgasmic."

"Yeah."

"_Jesus_. Is that what this is for you two?" McCoy says, taking one last reading with his tricorder and then tossing it aside in disgust. "Some weird-ass foreplay? You go get yourselves beat all to hell and then get off on it later? Jim, this really isn't a healthy direction for any relationship to take."

"Psh! Sulu couldn't handle me." Jim smirks as he runs his eyes over the doctor's body. "You, on the other hand, totally could. You sexy man-beast, you."

"You say the dumbest shit when you're high." McCoy rolls his eyes and turns towards the nurse's crash room, and thereby misses the way Jim's face crumples as he walks away. "Where the hell are my nurses?"

"He didn't mean that, man." Hikaru says, reaching out to pat Jim's head and nearly falling off his Bio-bed. "You're really great. You know? Really, really great."

"All I want is for that man to fuck me over his desk. Or, you know, the other way around." Jim says, staring at the door to the crash room forlornly. "That's not too much to ask, is it? Maybe I'm aiming too high."

"No!" Hikaru says firmly. He gets up and drapes himself over Jim and his Bio-bed, squeezing his shoulders and wagging one finger under his nose. "You are James Tiberius Kirk and you do not believe in no-desk-sex scenarios!"

"That's right!"

"Yeah!"

"Yeah!"

They stay like that for a few moments, basking in their newly discovered resolve in favor of desk-sex and Jim getting some. Hikaru licks his dry lips, marvels at the feeling of it and decides to share this observation with Jim.

"My tongue is wet. Really wet."

"Yeah? Mine too."

"No really, feel this." He says, then licks a wet stripe up Jim's cheek.

"Oh, dude! That's so weird!"

"Yeah it is!"

"I wanna try." Jim says, grabbing Hikaru's face in both hands and licking over his chin and across his mouth. "You taste salty."

There's an explosion of girlish laughter from the other side of Sick-bay. The Duty Nurse has come back out of the crash room, followed by McCoy, and is leaning over her desk to keep from falling over. McCoy is looking at them with eyes slightly wider than normal.

"I really don't want to know." He says. He turns to the nurse, who is pulling herself together. "Nurse Terry, please escort the Captain to a recovery room while I take a closer look at Lieutenant Sulu. Give him some water and a blanket and then lock him in there. He's much too high to be allowed to wander around the ship."

"Ah... Bones!" Jim calls over his shoulder as Nurse Terry leads him away. "This is mutiny! A Coup d'etat! I expect some really awesome make-up sex for this later."

McCoy grumbles something under his breath and lifts Hikaru's hand. He starts poking at Hikaru's bruised wrist with a little more force than is probably called for.

"Ow! Why are you always hurting me, man?" Sulu whines.

"When Jim came up to you and said: 'Hey, lets go play ball with a species twice our size. And wouldn't it be awesome if we did this high.' What did you say?" McCoy is looking him dead in the eye. There's a little muscle twitching at the corner of his mouth and Hikaru gets this weird idea that Jim's future possibilities of desk-sex may just hinge on Hikaru's answer to this question. He tries to make it a good one.

"To be fair, we didn't know about the incense thing, but I sort of figured: This is Jim, right? He's always got a plan. So I just rolled with it."

McCoy blinks at him, lifts up one hand and smacks his palm against Hikaru's forehead.

"Ow...."

"That's why I hurt you!"

"I don't like your hands. Jim always goes on and on and on about them like a teenage girl but I don't like them."

"What?"

"...I'm hungry."

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End Part Two


	3. Bones is not Amused

Rating: T for language and themes

Characters/Pairings: McCoy! With appearances by: Chekov, Scotty, Gaila, Spock, Chapel, Kirk, Cupcake and minor OCs. (Hints of UST Kirk/McCoy)

Warnings: None ^^

Author's note: This was written for the LJ ST_Santa exchange. My recipient was Alex/Rosivan (who left me an epically awesome comment there ^^). Also: The first line was taken and slightly altered (with permission) from mrasaki's wonderful fic: Indigestion and Other Matters of the Heart . Reading that one line literally gave my own fic idea structure and direction. ^^

**Summary:** Excerpts from Med-Bay's Long List of Dammit Jim!. Dr. McCoy is not amused.

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**Bones is not Amused**

_A BAMF Interlude_

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Leonard is reasonably certain that other CMOs don't have nearly the same problems he does.

This is a phrase that, in one form or another, makes up about 40% of Leonard's internal monologue, along with: _They don't pay me enough for this shit_ and _Dammit Jim!_. It's also the first thing that crosses his sleep fogged mind as he stares blankly at the comm in his hand. He's seated at his desk in his office in Med-bay. There's a PADD on his desk where his head used to be, it's undoubtedly left an indent on his face. Beside it is a mug half full of coffee which likely went cold hours ago. Leonard takes a large drink of it anyway.

"Chekov?"

"_Yes, Doctor?"_

"It's-" He stops to squint at the chronometer on the wall. "nearly 0200 hours. You realize that right?"

"_Yes, Doctor. We were out drinking."_ Chekov stops there as though this explains everything and, when Jim and Sulu are involved, it generally does. Background noise can be heard faintly over the comm link. It mostly consists of a male voice ranting hysterically.

"Who's that in the background, Chekov?"

"_Lieutenant Mathews, Doctor. He thinks you are going to cheese us."_

Leonard takes a moment to contemplate that statement.

"What?"

"_Umm. Sorry, is an English idiom. Some kind of dairy product is involved?"_

"Cream!" Leonard says, when his inner Chekov translator kicks in. "He thinks I'm going to cream you."

"_Yes, that is it!"_ Chekov's voice chirps over the comm.

"Why does Cupc- Mathews think I'm going to cream you?"

Chekov tells him.

Leonard stares at the comm for a few moments, then very carefully puts it down. He rolls his chair back and navigates his way out of his office and toward the on-hand hypo-tube storage rack. He selects his favorite stimulant, the one that's gotten him through ship wide pandemics and senior staff meetings, loads it into a hypospray and administers a liberal dose. It takes a few moments to kick in. When it does the world swims into focus and the kink in his neck recedes into the back of his mind. He sets the hypospray back down onto the rack with a soft 'clink'.

On his way back to his office Leonard catches the questioning look of the duty nurse. She glances back at the hypo-rack and then returns her gaze to Leonard with one eyebrow raised. He nods and she gets up to follow him back into his office.

Leonard sits back down at his desk. He takes a deep breath and reaches for the comm. Nurse O'Malley is watching expectantly from the doorway. She's got her arms folded and her fingers are twitching in a way that indicates, to Leonard's trained eye, that this is a woman who really wishes she had a bowl of popcorn.

"_Doctor? Are you still there?"_ Comes Chekov's voice from the comm.

"Could you explain that again, Chekov? I think I may have misunderstood the first time around."

Chekov does.

O'Malley snickers.

"Where-" Leonard asks, holding the comm close to his face and speaking very deliberately to keep himself from cursing a blue streak a mile wide. "-did that _lunatic_ we call our Captain find a swing set?"

"_The miners operating this station built a playground for their children."_ Is Chekov's reply. In the background Leonard can hear the anxious voice of Lieutenant Mathews ne' Cupcake yelling _'Captain! Can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?'_

"So Jim, drunk as a skunk, decides that because it's there he needs to _launch_ himself off it?"

"_It was actually an accident."_ Chekov says. Leonard can hear Jim yelling excitedly: _'That was awesome! Lets do it again!'_ in the background. The Ensign continues as though his explanation could make the situation seem less ridiculous than it already does. _"They were actually trying to spin themselves over the bar. Which is impossible-" _

_'Oh man! Look how far we went!' _

"_-but Sulu cheated and then the swing broke. They had a lot of momentum."_

"I'll just bet they did..." Leonard mutters. He wipes his free hand over his face. He can see O'Malley from between his fingers, she's grinning from ear to ear and rubbing her hands together. It occurs to him that she's never been present for one of these _Incidents_. For some reason, which Leonard has never tried to understand, his nurses keep a poster in their crash room with a running tally of just _who_ was present for _what_. It seems to factor into the social pecking order in some way. They call it The Long List of Dammit Jim!. He supposes he should be honored.

_'Dude! We left skid marks!'_ comes over the comm.

"I take it they're both still conscious, then?" Leonard asks, not really needing Chekov's answer.

"_Yes, Doctor."_

"Lovely. Get their asses to a shuttle and I'll see you all in 20 minutes." He says then closes the comm with a firm 'snap'.

_They don't pay me enough for this shit._ He thinks.

"That'll be another one for The List, then?" O'Malley asks, sounding entirely too amused.

Leonard grunts an affirmative then sets his head down on his desk. If he's lucky, really lucky, he'll get to lie here long enough for the PADD to leave another indent on his face. O'Malley hasn't left his doorway yet, he can feel her misplaced enthusiasm radiating through the top of his skull. When she does speak, however, he can detect an acceptable amount of sympathy in her voice.

"I'll have Lockly nip down to the mess for a slice of pie and a tall glass of milk for you, Doctor."

"You're a saint, O'Malley. A fucking saint."

"Yes, sir."

*-*-*-*-*-*

Engineering is the bane of Leonard's existence.

Most people, who have never set foot on the Enterprise, would expect this dubious honor to go to Security. They end up with the short straw more often than not as they're the ones tasked with handling confrontations and securing the safety of all non-combative personnel when shit goes down. This by itself ensures that Security personnel frequent Med-Bays over the entire fleet more often than any other division, regardless of how competent they are at their jobs.

Security on the Enterprise, however, has one additional complication in that several of the Enterprise's technically "non-combative" personnel often defy their classification with joyful abandon. As a result, Lieutenant Commender Giotto's men and women see so much of Med-Bay that they're on a first-name basis with all the nurses and have an entire section of Bio-beds dedicated solely for their use.

Despite this Leonard likes to think he has an understanding with the members of the Security division. He understands that Security personnel are going to show up in his Med-Bay with extensive injuries and horror stories about their Captain and _they_ understand that Leonard is going to **bitch** at them for it.

It's a give and take kind of relationship. Engineering, on the other hand, is a royal pain in the ass. Unlike Security, whose injuries are often significant and obtained in the _usually_ unavoidable execution of their duty (or while trying to prevent their Captain from executing their duties himself), Engineering manages to cause Leonard all kinds of problems without seriously hurting themselves in any way.

"What the hell is wrong with you people?" Leonard says, surveying his Med-Bay. There are men and women occupying most of the available Bio-beds with medical ailments ranging from '_That's Kinda Weird'_ to '_Really Fucking Ridiculous'_. He turns his attention to The Instigator. "I've got two ensigns who are tasting what they hear, a lieutenant who thinks she's standing upright when she's _actually_ leaning at 30 degrees and five crewmen who are hiccuping _in harmony_. How the hell did you manage this, Scotty?"

Montgomery Scott is currently sprawled, arms and legs akimbo, across a bio-bed. His gaze is fixed on the ceiling panels. The chief engineer swallows heavily.

"I may be throwing up soon." He says, voice a little scratchy. Leonard nods at Nurse Gret who retrieves a gag-bag from a nearby cabinet.

"Aim for the bag and not the floor please." Gret says in a voice that's not really masculine or feminine, but somewhere in between. Ze opens the bag and places it next to one of Scotty's hands.

"On the up side," Scotty says, "It isnna likely to be furry or electric blue like last week."

"I always miss the _fun_ stuff." Gaila says with a pout from one bio-bed over. Leonard shoots her an incredulous look. She grins back at him, completely unabashed. "To answer your question Doctor Leonard, we were experimenting with a miniaturized version of the external dampeners. Only we were trying to reverse the affect as a new way to deal with space debris. It didn't _quite_ go as planned."

"Gaila, darlin'," Leonard says, looking her up and down. "Why are you oozing?"

"I think the directed concussive force, which wasn't all that directed by the way, has jarred my pheromone glands."

The contemplative silence that follows this statement is deafening.

"De-cam now please." Leonard says while the rest of the room collectively slaps their hands over their mouths and noses and the two auditory tasters' eyes glaze over.

"Do I have to take off my clothes?" Gaila asks as she hops off the Bio-bed, leaving a bit of shimmery sweat behind where her hands touched the surface.

"Yes. Bio-hazard. Sorry." Leonard says, trying to last as long as possible without breathing in.

"But I'm wearing my lucky panties. You can't vaporize my lucky panties!" She complains, heading toward the containment room indicated by the frantic waving of two of his nurses. "What will I wear during the next experiment?"

"Lord help me."

"Do I get a sponge bath?"

"_Chapel!_"

The sound of Gaila's laughter is cut off by the containment doors. Chapel barely waits for Leonard's signal before hitting the switch to cycle out the air. After the fans die down the room visibly relaxes. Leonard sighs with relief and takes a deep breath of fresh air before walking back towards the chief engineer. He gives the two ensigns a quick once over as he passes them. Other than copious amounts of drool they appear to be just fine. He stops at the side of Scotty's bio-bed and glares down at him.

"Scotty?" Leonard asks. Scotty doesn't turn to look at him but he does answer.

"Aye?"

"If you are, in any way, oozing I will kick you bodily out of my Med-Bay."

"I think there's something a _wee_ bit wrong with me brain, Doctor." Scotty says, squeezing his eyes closed.

"What?" Leonard's head snaps up to look at the readings on the monitoring screen. They appear fairly normal but he grabs his tricorder and detaches the wand to get a closer look. He pays close attention to the readings but other than the usual random fluctuations Scotty's brain waves seem normal. "Why do you say that?"

"Everythin's upside down!" Is the man's slightly panicky response.

"Hmmm," Leonard thinks he may know what's going on here. It's just the sort of thing that would fit in nicely with the rest of today's shenanigans. "Okay, Scotty. I need you to open your eyes and look straight ahead, at the ceiling."

Scotty complies. Leonard moves his hand into his field of vision, starting from the man's right elbow and slowly moving toward the opposite corner of the bed.

"Which direction did my hand come from, Scotty?"

"The upper left, only your voice is comin' from me right!" Scotty says, squeezing his eyes shut again. "Tell it to me straight, Doctor. How long do I have?"

"Don't be such a drama queen, Scotty. It doesn't suit you." Leonard would be laughing if he weren't so exasperated. "You'll be _fine_. In fact, your brain will correct for this on it's own."

"It _will_?"

"Yep, babies start out seeing the world just like you are now," Leonard says, putting his tricorder back in its case. "Eventually, the brain gets a clue and inverts the data it gets from the eyes. Allowing you to see the world the right way up."

"Oh, aye. That makes sense, I suppose. Given the way light travels." Scotty says, sounding a good deal happier. "How long do you suppose it'll take?"

"About half a week." Leonard answers, trying to keep a straight face.

"A _week_?" Scotty shouts. He bolts upright on the bio-bed and has to grab onto the sides to keep from falling off. "I cannae wait a week for me brain to catch up with me eyes! There are things need doin' an I'm the only one qualified to oversee them!"

"Relax," Leonard puts a hand against Scotty's chest and pushes him back down onto his back. "I wasn't going to let you walk out of here while you're still seeing the ceiling as the floor. Hold still."

Leonard accepts the Nero-Synchronizer that Nurse Gret is holding out for him and fixes it to Scotty's forehead. He adjusts the settings as he explains the procedure to the engineer. "This thing is going to speed up the process. If you do what I tell you, it'll have you out of here in half an hour."

"I like the sound of that!"

"Right," Leonard says, gesturing toward his nurse. "Nurse Gret here is going to move zir hand around in front of your face. Each time ze pauses you need to reach out and try to touch zir hand. That exercise plus this Nero-Synchronizer will get your brain heading in the right direction in no time."

Leonard steps out of Gret's way and turns towards Chapel who's come up to stand beside him. "Status?"

"Ensigns Tepick and Greene and Lieutenant V'tru are set up with Nero-Synchronizers and the five crewmen have been given muscle relaxants. Their stats are being monitored."

"And Ensign Gaila?" Leonard asks, surveying the activity around Med-Bay.

"Her clothes have been disposed of," Chapel's lip twitches upward, "All except her underwear. She refuses to take it off."

Leonard sighs and runs a hand over his face. He debates the relative importance of his dignitary compared to safety regulations. He's going to kick himself for this later, when Jim hears about it and decides to waggle his eyebrows and tease him about having to pull rank to get a woman naked. Leonard walks over to a tech station and patches into the comm for the De-cam shower unit.

"Gaila?"

"_Yes, Doctor Leonard?_" She answers sweetly.

"I can't believe I'm saying this but," Leonard steels himself, closing his eyes so he doesn't have to watch Chapel stuff her fist into her mouth to keep from laughing. "As this ship's CMO I'm _ordering_ you to take off your underwear."

"_Ohhh! Kinky!_" Gaila giggles over the comm. "_Sir, yes sir!_"

Leonard sighs with relief. That wasn't as bad as he thought it would be. "Excellent, place them in the hazard shoot and then-"

"_No deal._" Gaila cuts him off.

"Ensign-"

"_They're my lucky panties!_"

"I'm aware of that," Leonard says, a bit annoyed. "But that doesn't change the fact that they're a hazardous material at the moment. Regulations state that they have to be disposed of."

"_Please, Leonard? I wore them on the Farragut._" There's a tremor in her voice. "_Please._"

He glances up at Chapel. She's watching him intently, her expression unreadable. He doesn't really need her opinion on this, he's already decided what he's going to say, but it would be nice to have some kind of conformation that she shares his inclinations before he says it.

"Chapel, have someone run down to one of the science labs and requisition a specimen bag."

"Yes, Doctor." She smiles with her eyes, then walks away.

"_Thank you._"

"You're welcome, darlin'."

*-*-*-*-*-*

The Enterprise is at warp, traveling between missions. Other than routine appointments and training injuries, Med-Bay isn't getting much traffic. It's virtually empty now and quiet for the most part. The only sounds drifting around the bay are the soft 'clinks' of metal on metal as med-techs take inventory and the perplexed mummers of two nurses from the equipment storage room.

Leonard is in his office updating Jim's Medical Log.

It's slow going. Not because a lot has happened since the last time he's added to it, though their last mission had been... _interesting_. And not because there's all sorts of strange, new allergies or diseases as-yet-unknown-to-man to make a note of. It's mostly because Leonard has to stop and delete half of what he dictates every other sentence.

"_The_ Moron, king of moron kind and all of their ilk – delete that."

_'Added Content Deleted.'_ The computer responds in a soothing feminine voice.

"The _Captain_ sustained hairline fractures to the 7th and 8th ribs on his right side. Because he's an imbecile, incapable of delegating even the most routine tasks – computer, delete everything after 'his right side'."

_'Specified Content Deleted.'_

"The Captain also sustained blunt force trauma to the left temple. Possibly causing the few brain cells he had left to dislodge, resulting in a marked decrease in his ability to make rational decisions – computer, delete everything after 'the left temple'."

_'Specified Content Deleted.'_

"Following these injuries, obtained on the God forsaken, shit hole of a planet known as Sigma F-3, and showing a complete disregard for my own sanity _the little shit_ proceeded to metaphorically beat his chest at the locals." At which point Leonard really can't stop himself from dropping all pretense and yelling at the counsel. "Do you hear that you damn geezers? The planet had sentient life! Giant ass sentient life, God-dammit! Uninhabited, resource rich boon, my ass. When was that data probe sent out? The 20th century? ..._Fuckers_... Computer, delete-"

"_Engineering to Med-Bay._" Scotty's voice interrupts his train of thought.

"Oh, God. Not you again." Leonard groans.

"_An it's nice to be speaking to you as well, Doctor!_" Scotty responds, sounding all together too cheery.

"What is it this time? Did you blow something up? Someone get stuck in a Jeffrey's tube?"

"_You'll be happy to hear that, amazingly, none of my people are in any way injured, ill or in need of any kind of medical intervention what so ever._" Scotty answers. Leonard stares at the comm suspiciously. The ship's CE sounds far too smug for anything good to come out of this conversation. There's a pause and then Scotty's voice comes over the comm a little fainter. As though he's turned his back to it. "_Don't go climbing up after them, you little bugger! The structure's wobbly as it is!_"

"Scotty–"

"_The Cap'n and Mr. Sulu on the other hand–_"

"Son of a bitch!" Leonard snatches his tricorder up off his shelf and reaches for his kit.

"_Thought that would make your day._" Scotty replies. "_They went zooming by on some kind of contraption, up along the sky walk above the water turbines. Took a corner weird and skidded off onto the rigging above that grav-mag generator we've been experimentin' with._"

"Can you see them?" Leonard asks, punching the nurse call button on his counsel.

"_Nope! Can hear them well enough, though. They sound right pleased with themselves_."

"Of _course_ they do." Leonard roles his eyes. He gets his kit slung over his shoulder just as Chapel and a couple of younger nurses step into his office. "Incident in Engineering, Chapel. I'll take Thompson and Stevens. Mind the Bay until we get back. God, I hate these long transitory periods in warp, people seem to shed IQ points by the shit load."

"And by people, you mean the Captain?" Chapel smirks. Leonard doesn't grace that statement with a reply.

"Should we tell-" One of the younger nurses starts before getting cut off by her co-worker.

"Later! The Doctor's _busy_."

"What is it?" Leonard asks. "Might as well get it out before it gets forgotten."

"One of the hover stretchers has gone missing, Sir." Chapel says when neither of the other two respond. "The digital log says they're all accounted for, that all _eleven_ have been signed in but-"

"We're supposed to have twelve in the Main Bay, that's regulation." Leonard stops, meeting Chapel's questioning gaze.

"Exactly."

"_Hover stretcher, you say?_" Scotty pipes up. "_That'd be a longish sort of white lookin' thing?_"

Leonard and all three nurse stare down at the comm in surprise.

"Yes..."

"_Oh, well. That's alright then! It's hanging from the primary support cable._"

"I'm going to kill that man." Leonard mutters, putting one hand down on the desk for support. His fingers brush the control panel of his counsel and the computer responds to the touch.

'_Dictation Completed On CMO's Medical Log. Transmitting To Star Fleet Medical. Transfer Completed._'

"Oh God _dammit_, Jim!"

*-*-*-*-*-*

"It was horrible, Doc." Ensign Anders whispers. He's staring straight head, not really seeing what's in front of him, eyes wide enough to show the whites all around. "It just _happened_. Out of nowhere. And I couldn't do _anything_."

"I know, kid." Leonard says, low and soothing. He runs the tricorder wand over the ensign's face and down his chest, focusing on his lungs. The readings check out normal except for an elevated heart rate and higher than normal blood pressure. From stress more than anything. "Keep talkin'. Let it all out."

"I was ready, I _was_." Anders insists, more to himself than to Leonard. "I'd had my eye on that one Gergite, he was acting off. Different from the others. An when he threw that thing at me? I had my hand coming up to block and my phaser half out of the holster. I was ready! And then, then, then-"

"It's okay." Leonard puts his tricorder down and rests a hand on the kid's shoulder.

"He came out of nowhere! Slammed right into me!" Anders shudders, looks at the doctor imploringly. "Why'd he _do_ that? What the hell was he _thinking_?"

"I'm still not entirely sure he does."

"It hit him right in the face, the powder got all over him! It could have been anything!" Anders' face is pinched in a way that makes Leonard wonder if he should pull the privacy curtain before the kid bursts into tears in front of the entire Med-Bay. "He's the Captain, he can't _do_ that!"

Leonard sighs and pats the ensign's shoulder. "Look, Anders. I know you're new to the Enterprise and all, and that this was your first away mission here-"

"I was _ready_."

"I _know_. Giotto doesn't clear anyone for planet side unless he's confident in them." Leonard says, hoping that'll get the kid to relax a little. It does but not much. At least Anders doesn't look as teary. "You're new, an maybe you thought some of the things the other guys were telling you were exaggerations or that they were pulling your leg. I'm telling you that everything they said was God's own truth."

"Even the thing about the Klingons and the tentacle porn?"

"God, don't remind me," Leonard groans then rushes ahead when Anders' jaw goes slack. "What I'm saying is, even if you brushed them off the other guys in Security will understand. Find someone you feel comfortable with and just _talk_ to them about what happened today. They'll listen."

"Really?" Anders asks, voice a little weak.

"Yes. And if you can't think of anyone, try Cupcake – Lieutenant Mathews," Leonard clarifies when Anders just looks confused. "He's a good listener and he's been there for some of the Captain's more insane misadventures."

"Okay," Anders says, gives a little nod. He calls after Leonard when he turns away. "Doc! The Captain, he's alright?"

"Yeah, damn amazing really." Leonard replies shaking his head. "He managed to get hit with the one substance in the entire galaxy that he doesn't seem to be allergic to. Other than some bumps and bruises, he's fine. Already been discharged, in fact."

Anders breaths out a sigh of relief and Leonard turns away. There are still some things to attend to before he goes to rip Jim a new one.

-*-

"Jim, this is beginning to get out of hand." Leonard says, walking into the Captain's quarters. He's had just about as many traumatized Security personnel in his Med-Bay as he can take. If something isn't done about it soon he's going to loose his mind. He stops just inside the door and looks around. The lights are on but he can't see Jim anywhere in the common area. He raises his voice and walks toward the door to the bedroom. "I swear, Jim, if you're not in your quarters like I told you-"

The door to the bedroom slides open. The room is dark. Leonard looks towards the bed and can just make out a shape there from the light pouring in behind him. He sighs and whispers a command just loud enough for the computer to register. He'll give Jim a quick once over and then let him sleep. His bitching can wait until the morning. "Lights at ten percent."

"Dammit Jim." Leonard curses. The shape on the bed is one of Jim's pillows and part of his blanket balled up at the center. Captain of a damn star ship and the kid still doesn't make his bed. Leonard's comm chimes as he starts to turn and head out of the Captain's quarters. He flips it open, giving the bedroom one last look before turning fully away from it. "McCoy here."

Leonard hears just enough to know the voice on the line is Chapel before he's hit from the side. It's a full body impact, knocking him to the floor with enough force to leave him breathless. He barely has time to realize his attacker is on top of him, let alone try to fight him off, before his wrists are taken in a firm grip and pressed to the floor on either side of his head. He's reeling from the fall but the floor is hard against his back, it's enough to ground him, to keep him from panicking. He's on his back, facing his attacker. He has options, can hear them listed off in his mind. Jim's voice saying: _pull them off balance, go for the throat, the ears, the eyes; you're a doctor Bones, you know how fragile the human body can be, use it against them_. Leonard pulls in his first real breath and opens his eyes.

Any half formed thoughts of resistance or escape leave him instantly. He's shocked senseless (his trust in his friend is so complete that, even being attacked in the Captain's quarters, the thought never would have occurred to him) to see Jim staring down at him, face hard, his gaze hot and intense. He looks wild with half his face illuminated from the common room's light, the other half shadowed.

"_Doctor McCoy? Doctor McCoy!_" Leonard's comm, amazingly, is still in his hand. Close enough to his face that, even without turning his head to the side, he knows Chapel will be able to hear him.

"You know how we decided to discharge Jim from Med-Bay instead of observing him overnight?" Leonard asks, his voice little more than a horse whisper. Jim's only reaction to the sound is to press his knees tighter against Leonard's sides, squeeze his wrist a little harder. Still staring him in the eyes, not blinking once. The light from the common room puts highlights in them, making them appear sharp and alien. Like doll eyes.

"_Um... Yes?_" Chapel replies, sounding a little unsure.

"Yeah, we shouldn't have done that." Leonard watches Jim carefully, looking for any warning signs that a sudden shift in action is imminent. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a nervous gesture. Jim's eyes shift down to watch, head tilting. Leonard stills instantly.

"_What's happening?_" Chapel asks, voice low. She asks again when Leonard doesn't answer right away. "_Doctor? What's the Captain doing?_"

"Right now? He's got me pinned to the floor and he's staring at my mouth." The line stays quiet and Leonard knows his head nurse is thinking exactly what he's thinking. Say what you like about the Yeomen, Leonard knows that it's actually the Med-staff who are the worst gossips in the Fleet. The Enterprise has never encountered _this_ particular hazard of planetary exploration, until today it seems, but his nurses have heard all about it from their colleagues on other ships. Pollens, molds and spores drastically altering the behavior of those who are exposed. Some leading to violent rages, others to dramatic mood swings or lethargy and melancholy.

There's one reaction more notorious than all the others combined, infamous to the point that it's engraved itself into Star Fleet mythology. If Jim's actions are anything to go by – the intensity, the assertion of dominance, his apparent lack of higher cognizance – it's definitely this last influence that Jim has come under. If something isn't done quickly, Leonard knows, this situation will end very badly. His own body Leonard can heal easily, his mind will take longer but is doable. Jim's trust in himself, however... Leonard isn't sure if he'll be able to fix that if things go wrong.

He gasps, startled, as Jim lowers his face down close. Jim's nose brushes against his skin from cheek to ear as he takes a slow, deep breath in.

"And now he's sniffing me."

"_We're coming! Thompson, comm Security! Leonard, are you in the Capt-_" Jim's head snaps up when he hears Chapel say the doctor's name, his eyes boring into Leonard's, narrowed down to slits. Jim snarls, ripping the comm from Leonard's hand to throw it at the wall. It shatters and falls to the floor in pieces before Chapel can finish the question.

Leonard takes the opening provided by Jim letting go of his wrist to destroy the comm. He swings his arm up, hand cupped, to slam against Jim's ear. The blow seems to stun him for a moment, which is all Leonard needs to rip his other hand free from Jim's slackened grip. He tries to get a hold of Jim's shoulders, to push him off to the side but Jim's recovered and he grabs at Leonard's arms. The struggle is furious but brief and then Leonard's wrists are slammed back onto the floor, Jim's legs squeezing hard enough that Leonard is starting to have difficulty breathing.

"Mine!" Jim shouts, short and sharp, almost a bark. Leonard's momentarily stunned. Language isn't supposed to be something Jim should have the presence of mind to use in this condition. Leonard takes a deep breath, hoping desperately that he can talk Jim down.

"Jim, _please_. Don't do this." He can feel Jim's erection through the layers of fabric, hot and hard on his stomach, as he presses Leonard's body against the floor. Jim's eyes are locked on his, pupils wide and feverish. "Jim, please."

"_Mine._" Jim all but growls. His fingers tighten around Leonard's wrists until sharp pain shoots down his arms.

"God!" Leonard hisses. He's desperate and just a little frightened and he's tried everything else. Fighting and pleading, everything but submitting and isn't that what Jim – not really Jim but he's in there somewhere – really wants? For Leonard to submit to him? He hopes this will have some effect, hopes the Security team is close. "Yes! Yours, _yours_, only yours."

_Always yours,_ He thinks, closing his eyes and turning his head to the side. _Even if you've never seen it, will never see it._

He tries to breath deep and even, waiting for whatever Jim decides to do next. For a few moments it's just hot breath against his face and then Jim speaks.

"Mine?" The change in tone is enough to shock Leonard into snapping his eyes open to look at Jim from the corner of his eye. Jim's face hasn't gone soft exactly, but it's not as sharp and unforgiving as it was before.

"Yours." Leonard breaths out, trying not to feel too relieved, because he doesn't know where this is going.

"Mine!" Jim cries, fucking _ecstatic_. Suddenly the pressure on Leonard's wrists is gone. Jim has his arms wrapped around Leonard's shoulders and is tucking his face into the crook of his neck, _nuzzling_ as he chants in a sing-song sort of voice. "Bonesy, Bonesy, my Bonesy, Bonesy, mine!"

"What. _The fuck_."

Leonard hears the door slide open over Jim's happy noises. He can hear the echo of voices yelling from down the hall before they're cut off again. Then Spock comes through the entry to the bedroom, towering in the back lighting. He's radiating power and animalistic strength, muscles tense and ready to spring until suddenly he's not. He freezes for half a second and then his shoulders relax as he folds his hands behind his back. Spock tilts his head just slightly, one eyebrow making a break for his hairline, as he watches their Captain wriggle like an excited puppy against Leonard's chest.

"Mine, mine, my Bonesy, mine!"

Leonard glares at Spock over Jim's head. "Stop it, you pointy eared bastard."

"I'm engaged in no activity that could meet with your disapproval, Doctor." Spock says in a voice that would be considered dry humor from a human. But since it's Spock, it's just his normal '_humans are so illogical_' tone.

"Yes, you are. You're laughing at me. Quietly in your head."

The main door slides open again before Spock can respond to that. Two Security officers burst into the room, taking up positions on either side of Spock. Their phasers are drawn and set to stun but they don't fire, going still when they see the Commander's relaxed posture. Chapel and two trauma nurses come skidding in behind them. Chapel's face is drawn with worry. They all go a bit bug-eyed when they see Leonard and Jim on the floor.

"As CMO," Leonard says, looking Cupcake in the eyes and scowling. "I'm giving you permission to stun his ass and drag him back to Med-Bay by his ankles."

Jim _fucking purrs_ at the sound of Leonard's voice and rolls his hips.

"Christ!" Leonard gasps. The trauma nurses are staring at their feet and trying not to grin. Chapel has no such restraint and falls to the ground, laughing hysterically.

"We were under the impression, Doctor," Spock says, Cupcake and the other red shirt holstering their phasers behind him. "That you were in danger of... loosing your virtue, I believe the phrase is."

"I'm in danger of loosing my temper if you don't get this idiot off me." Leonard snaps, then turns his attention to his head nurse. She's got tears running down her face and he's not sure if they're from her laughter or if she's honest to God _crying_. He wonders what was going through her head when the comm died, wonders what she must have been feeling running here not knowing what she would find. For all her strength and business like manner, she's a compassionate soul. "Chapel? You alright?"

"_Snuggle pollen!_" She gasps out. "Oh, my _God_! And he's _humping_ you! Oh, I'm dying, _dying_!"

"I know where your quarters are woman," Leonard threatens, "and you're a damn fine nurse so don't make me smother you in your sleep!"

Eventually they drag Jim off of him (_No! My Bonesy!_), administer a sedative and transfer him down to a private room in Med-Bay. The next day, when the effects have worn off, Leonard looks Jim over before discharging him. Again.

The appointment is full of Jim's awkward apologies and Leonard's embarrassing assurances to Jim that he's _fine_, really so just hold still dammit. Leonard spends the whole time worrying about what Jim is thinking and if he'll ever act the same around Leonard again. It isn't until the end of the examination that Leonard knows things are going to be alright, that he and Jim will continue on as normal. Not until Jim looks up at him, smiling crookedly, and asks if this means they're going steady. Leonard throws a tissue dispenser at it him and chases Jim out of the Med-Bay. Jim throws him a jaunty salute, saying '_Yes sir, Lieutenant Commander Bonesy, sir!_' as he makes a mad dash for a turbo-lift and the Bridge.

*-*-*-*-*-*

Leonard is sitting at a table in a Star Fleet canteen on Station Beta-Sentari with three other CMOs. The four ships are docked to take on new personnel, load supplies, receive training and renew certifications. He'd spent the morning synchronizing schedules with his staff, making sure everyone knew what seminars they needed to attend and when until they'd all been able to recite the schedule by heart. Until Chapel had looked about ready to beat him senseless with her PADD. He can honestly say he'd been looking forward to this lunch meeting with the other CMO's. At the moment they're comparing horror stories.

"You can't be serious," Doctor Mudiraj says, looking up from his vegetarian curry.

"Completely serious," Doctor Kukk replies. She brings her hand up over her heart to indicate the sincerity of her statement. "The man comes in every 37 days at precisely 1400 hours complaining of new symptoms and then telling me _exactly_ what's wrong with him. I could set my chronometer by him!"

"Amazing how someone like that can make it past the psych screening." Doctor Aoki remarks from Leonard's left.

"It's because he's such a genius at navigation. We're proud to have him, despite his quirks." Doctor Kukk replies. Though she sounds more smug than proud. She turns toward Leonard, grinning. "But the Enterprise has a young prodigy in that field as well I hear."

"We've got many fine people on board," Leonard says and means it. "Chekov's a whiz kid but he's not the only one with a little extra talent up his sleeve."

"I've heard some interesting things concerning the Enterprise," Mudiraj says. He waves his fork at Leonard, his eyes twinkling. "But you haven't shared any stories yet, Doctor McCoy. You're holding out on us!"

"That's right," Aoki turns to regard him. "We've heard all about Doctor Mudiraj's chicken pox incident-"

"Chicken pox in the 23rd century! Who would believe it?" Kukk interjects.

"- and I've told my story about the Tellerite tubers that turned everyone's hair blue." Aoki continues, glancing briefly in Kukk's direction. "Now it's your turn. Anything interesting happen on your ship lately?"

Leonard looks around the table. It's been a taxing couple of months all in all and this stop isn't really going to be much of a vacation. It's pleasant enough to eat and chat with his fellow CMOs but he's beginning to think that he doesn't actually have much in common with them, aside from the basics. He's heard Jim comment often enough about how special his ship, _his girl_, is and what an amazing crew he'd managed to pull together, fighting for them tooth and nail. But it's not really until just now that Leonard realizes exactly how true it is. There really isn't another ship, another crew in the Fleet that can compare.

Leonard has a sort of gruff, will-stand-for-no-bull-shit personality in general, but that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to have fun. So he tells them.

He tells them _everything_.

From the last couple of months at least, and even that takes the better part of their lunch. Not that much of it gets eaten after Leonard gets to the bit where he has to order Gaila to take her clothes off. Eventually Leonard reaches the end of his most recent adventure on the Enterprise and sits back waiting for his colleagues' reactions. For a few moments they just stare and then they all start in on top of each other.

"Where did he find a _swing set_?"

"He fought them bare-handed? Is he _insane_?"

"They let _him_ run Engineering? The man's a nightmare!"

"Snuggle pollen? I thought my nurses were just having a go at me!"

"Yes, but _where_ did he find a _swing set_?"

Leonard just sits back grinning and laughs.

* * *

*

* * *

End of Interlude


End file.
